The Longest Year
by Scorpio Grudge
Summary: [Complete] Out of Azkaban, nearly broken, the Ministry has a use for Severus Snape, wther he is prepared or not. Part of The Coachwhip continuity.
1. Part 1

[Characters are the creation of JK Rowling. I am not claiming them as my own, nor attempting to make money from them, and neither should you.]

The Longest Year

a story by Scorpio Grudge

* * *

He rubbed his left arm absently, a nervous reaction made worse by his time in Azkaban. He hated to be stared at, and the man in front of him was doing just so with the utmost scrutiny. 

"Let me guess," the man began, "they pulled you out of your cell and brought you straight here?" 

Severus nodded, feeling filthy more now that the man had obviously noticed his sad condition. 

"This won't work." 

"Don't send me back," he said, and hated himself for it. His voice was weak, desperate. They'd be able to make him do anything by just promising to keep him from going back. 

The man looked at him, surprise clear on his unlined face and in his hazel eyes. "I... wasn't going to." He grinned then. "I'm sure you have no love lost for the Ministry; truth is there are a lot of us who think they let the aurors get away with too much. I'm not going to send you back just because those fools don't understand what's going on here." 

"You're... not an auror?" That was possibly some of the best news he had heard. Especially since he didn't know what was going on here either. 

"I'm not. Now let's get you cleaned up. Your training won't go anywhere unless you're in good health, which is something Azkaban doesn't promote. Can you apparate?" 

With a shake of his head, Severus looked at the floor. "My license... my wand." 

"I suppose we'll have to go by floo then." He took a box from his tidy desktop, then something else. "Here. This will help some, damned aurors." Then he handed a bar of chocolate over. 

Chocolate. Honestly, Severus hadn't believed he'd ever see chocolate again. 

"It works better if you eat it." 

Severus looked at the man, then the chocolate. He quickly shoved the entire thing in his mouth. Merlin, he didn't even like chocolate, but this was maybe the best thing he had ever eaten. 

"So you do have the will to live. Good." 

It took weeks, weeks in which the Ministry demanded to know why Severus Snape wasn't on duty yet. 

"The man was in Azkaban for a year, and you want him to become an animagus overnight? It doesn't work that way. This has to be done properly, or you won't get a spy _or_ a prisoner back; you'll get another for St. Mungo's." 

There was a reason the idea of becoming an animagus had never appealed to Severus. 

But the Ministry had relented and allowed things to proceed as they had been. 

For one month, Severus was under the watchful care of the man he had come to know only as David. 

"A spy already then?" David had said as Severus told him about his life at Hogwarts. "I read the reports, of course, but they're usually filled with half-truths. Hard to get the real story out of the Ministry, though... Whatever you think of the man, Winthorpe's trying to change things." 

In truth, Severus hadn't thought about it. To his surprise, the words and actions came effortlessly. He pulled back the sleeve of his shirt and revealed the Dark Mark there, black. "I was a Death Eater after all. It wasn't... unreasonable what he did." 

"What about the others?" David said, only glancing briefly at the mark. "The ones that managed to stay out of Azkaban. Again." 

"Like Malfoy?" His lips twisted in disgust. 

David laughed. "You just answered my question." He leaned against the desk and crossed his arms loosely over his chest. "So have you ever wanted to become an animagus?" 

"No. Too much work for too little reward. It wasn't practical or needed." 

A smile crossed David's lips. "Spoken like a non-wand specialist. Let me see... Not a history buff, or interested in Muggles. I'd say either Potions or Arithmancy." 

"Potions. And... Dark Arts." 

"Does that extend to defense as well?" 

Severus nodded. "I've been qualified for that Defense position longer than that twit Sullivan has been alive." 

"Sullivan? Who's that?" 

"She's the Defense teacher at Hogwarts." 

"Shawn Sullivan you mean then." 

A nod. 

"You have to realize, Severus, that things change," David explained, "especially now. Shawn returned to the Ministry in her capacity as an auror before the school year started." 

Severus considered this for a moment, frowning. "I never asked... How long was I in Azkaban?" 

"Almost a year and a half." David watched Severus for his reaction, and when he didn't see one, he took action. "I need to run a few errands before we get started. I'll be back in an hour." 

Only when Severus was sure David was gone did he allow himself to react. He began to cry. 

"Dumbledore, I've got your ex-Potions Master in my care here." 

"I had heard he was free, but had no idea what had become of him. I'm most grateful for the information." 

"The Ministry's putting him to work, though I don't think he's in very good shape. He just asked today how long he'd be in Azkaban, and his reaction has me worried." 

"Oh dear..." 

"Aye. Would you mind giving him a friendly face? You know how the Ministry's filled with ham-handed dolts that don't know a thing about compassion." 

"Of course, David. When would be most opportune?" 

"This afternoon. Two hours I think should be good." 

"Very well. I shall see you in two hours." Albus' head disappeared from the flames. 

*******

A year and a half. It seemed both forever and nothing at all at the same time. Azkaban had that ability to suck out all sense of time along with any decent memories or thoughts. Though the dementor population on the island prison was much depleted, it didn't tale very many of the creatures to sap the prisoners of hope, especially not one like Severus Snape. 

And having to work directly for the Ministry now... There would be no going back to Hogwarts, no more safety... Was it all against him, so high and so heavy, that even the tiniest comfort afforded him by those stone walls was to be ripped away? Just what purpose was there in living now? 

"Severus, I'm so glad to see you." 

His body stiffened at the sound of the voice. Even after a month, it took effort to allow things like hope to blossom in him. Slowly, not sure if it was real or just another hallucination ready to be sucked away, Severus turned. "Albus?" It would take time to get his voice back to the way it had been when teaching; everything came out sounding meek now. 

"My dear boy." Albus crossed the room, his arms outstretched. 

It took real effort for Severus to stand, his legs just refused to support him, denying that this was all real. "Albus?" he asked again, and felt his lip quiver in a truly embarrassing way as the tears returned with ferocity. Wobbling, his legs finally propelled him and forward into Dumbledore's hug. 

"I wasn't sure what had become of you," the old wizard said gently. "I had feared the worst." One gnarled hand moved rhythmically up and down the back of the near-broken man, while the other caressed the raven hair. "What you must have looked like coming out of that place..." 

Outside of those comments and the continued soothing noises Dumbledore, there was silence until finally: "I can't come back to teach Potions." 

"I know, but don't concern yourself with that." 

It was hardly dark outside when Dumbledore put Severus to bed. 

"Spared Azkaban the first time around," David said when Dumbledore returned to the cozy sitting room. "That was generous of you." 

"Too generous of me, I know you're thinking." With a sigh, Dumbledore lowered himself into one of the worn armchairs in front of the fire. "He was sincere when he came to me about leaving Voldemort. He has never strayed from his commitment to the Light." 

David nodded, his expression neutral. "Once a traitor--" 

"Always a traitor. You sound disturbingly like Alastor Moody, David. This concerns me." There was a half-hearted smile on the weathered face. 

"I do consider that an insult, old man. But I just want you to know..." He was silenced by a dismissive wave of Dumbledore's hand. 

"Don't you trust the judgment of your grandfather, David?" 

"Don't get sentimental on me. This is a job for me, not charity work." 

Dumbledore smiled, though it was tinged with sadness. "Severus needs guidance now, David. I know you will provide that. He needs to be trusted, because he is trustworthy, not because he is the last option. I did my best at Hogwarts, but there were complications to that situation. He didn't fully trust me; he never has." 

"And now?" 

"I'm not positive. Azkaban can change a person so drastically, but I would be willing to believe he wants someone to be there for him the way no one ever was before. You've been volunteered for it, my boy." 

David shrugged casually. "It'll take trust to make it through the hell he has ahead of him. The Ministry wanted him out there the week after they dropped him on my doorstep. Fools. He must hate everything to do with them, and I don't blame him." 

"There is little to do," Dumbledore reasoned, "while Voldemort is at large. Training for survival over the intricacies of laws and justice." 

"I work for the Ministry," David replied archly. "I know how they don't care about a wizard's right to be treated like a human being." 

Dumbledore leaned forward, fixing the younger man with his intense blue gaze. "David, until you settle down and have children of your own, please watch over Severus for me." 

Taken aback by the abrupt change in subject, David shook his head, scowling. "I'm not here to be his father figure." 

"No, I don't mean that. I've watched him grow, like so many others, from a child into the man he is now. I've watched him battle through so much, and to lose him now... Please help him live, if only for a few more months." 

"You're a pessimistic old man." 

Dumbledore sighed, a sound with none of his usual life or intensity in it. "No, David, not in this case. I am merely... realistic." 

*******

"I need an owl." 

David looked up from the Daily Prophet. "I wasn't sure you'd wake up on your own." He ignored the request. 

"I need an owl." 

After folding his paper, David leaned back in his chair. "For what?" 

Severus scowled. "I was not hatched from a crocodile's egg; I do have family that I would like to contact." His voice was tight with displeasure at having to report his business. 

"Ah yes, your grandmother." 

There was no verbal reply from Severus, though his entire body tensed at the words. 

"I read your file. The Ministry is so fond of keeping their files on anything and everyone." David smiled, but it had a difficult time reaching his eyes. "They even have your grades, you know? I can trace your childhood through those. When your parents died and your Transfiguration grade dropped while your Defense grade topped out. That little incident involving Remus Lupin--yes, it's in there--and the resulting disciplinary action." His eyes sparkled in a way Dumbledore's never had. "How did you enjoy your detention?" 

Severus growled, baring his teeth. 

"You're not even a bump on the Ministry's road to stripping away the personal rights of every witch and wizard under their jurisdiction, and some that aren't," David continued seriously, the smile gone, but his eyes with an even harder edge to them. "You need to get back into the world with whatever tools you have, whatever it takes." 

"I don't need a lecture. I need an owl." 

David took pity on him, spotting what might have been the beginnings of unshed tears in his eyes. He gave a sharp, high-pitched whistle, and a large horned owl swooped into the room. It landed lightly on David's outstretched arm. "You can use Voltaire any time you wish." 

Frowning, Severus removed a scrap of parchment from his robes and approached the owl. After fixing his message to the bird's leg, he whispered the recipient to the owl and watched it go. 

"So tell me," David said casually, watching Severus retreat, "why were you so rotten in school?" He didn't receive pleasure from it, but he did get the desired reaction as Severus looked at him with unbridled fury. 

"Because I had no choice. Not that anyone ever cared," Severus ground out. "I was just the son of a Death Eater whore after all." 

Just a little bitterness there. "Nobody thought that, I'm sure." Gentle without patronizing. 

Severus' eyes narrowed and his lips formed a thin, tight line. "Thank you for the use of your owl," he said, and walked away. 

Something there, deep deep roots of negative experience at Hogwarts. There was the option to call on Dumbledore, find out what the old man knew, but sometimes it was better to not know and not have someone else's biases clouding the picture. As much as he looked up to his grandfather, David held no illusions as to the man's imperfections. No, this was a mess he'd need to sort out on his own. 

**TBC**

AN: Takes place roughly 4-5 years before initial events in The Coachwhip continuity. 


	2. Part 2

[Characters are the creation of JK Rowling. I am not claiming them as my own, nor attempting to make money from them, and neither should you.]

The Longest Year

part 2

a story by Scorpio Grudge

* * *

Some of the others had been children of Death Eaters and aspiring servants of Voldemort. Aspiring. Funny that aspiration was the very thing that got them into Slytherin to begin with. His parents' death must have become news in the House, and then he was... what? Fair game? A potential recruit? 

David sat back in his chair, the folders open in his lap, and stared into the fire. He tried to imagine... Probably tall for his age, and thin, but not quite awkward. The one magical picture of Severus in the folder was a blank background. Taken at age 12, the boy refused to show himself in it. Pictures taken during a happier time were no doubt kept safely with the grandmother. 

Alongside the magical photo was a Muggle picture. The boy couldn't escape from this non-moving version, and he stared sullenly out from it, looking just as miserable as could be expected. 

Fair game then, until he had finally battled back, putting everything his mother had taught him to good use. A potential recruit then. An eventual recruit. But when had that line, between potential and eventual, been crossed? For those who knew how to look, the answers were right there, so David turned his attention back to the files. 

Grades fluctuated after the deaths of his parents, then rose steadily. Yes, both Slytherin and Ravenclaw potential there, but for all the wrong reasons. Any sort of trouble within Slytherin was not in the school report, so it was only a guess as to what might have happened before the boy had come into his own. Whatever had caused it, that point was very obvious as there were suddenly disciplinary reports all over the place. Hexing other students, out after curfew, in the Forbidden Forest, making advanced and dangerous potions on his own... 

Every single thing David read about the boy screamed out as pleas for help. Students half as smart as Severus Snape snuck out after curfew, got into fights, and did all sorts of dangerous magic without getting caught, but he was caught consistently. No one ever picked up this pattern though. Grades remained excellent throughout, and that was perhaps the one thing that prevents his expulsion. 

There were also quite a few--not more than five dozen--encounters with a group of Gryffindors. These incidents went beyond House rivalries, and David knew each one added to the decision to join the Death Eaters.Plain old revenge could be a powerful motivator to the proper mind. So escalating pranks and an answer, each escalating in viciousness and humiliation, all to be topped off by the werewolf incident. 

Something so serious wouldn't be forgotten though, and given two years to nurse that anger unchecked... A disaster in waiting. Waiting, yes, as there were no more Gryffindor confrontations, just the regular trouble. That made a kind of sense, as disheartening as it was. And then something happened that didn't fit this pattern at all. 

Caught out after curfew, outside with another student. No dueling, no hexes though. Just out at night. Detentions given and served. A Ravenclaw, fellow 6th year, name of Alan Zimmerman. Strange. There were no further mentions of this other student, though Snape's behavior curbed for a while. Perhaps...? Perhaps, but Snape's troublesome behavior started again middle of his final year and continued until he left Hogwarts. 

Then the joining of the Death Eaters and three lost years. Whatever had prompted him to run to Dumbledore wasn't in any file, and David wasn't sure anyone outside of Snape really knew. And here, Dumbledore's record, not found in any Ministry file. It was certainly a sad tale, but still, David didn't think it was quite complete. 

Maybe the grandmother, maybe this mysterious Alan Zimmerman, or maybe just unbearable guilt. 

"Tell me," he said aloud suddenly, "about Alan Zimmerman, Severus." 

Out of sight, behind the chair and in the shadows, Severus said, "He was a friend." A slight pause. "I don't see what that has to do with anything." 

"Just getting an idea of what motivates you, where you come from, what makes Dumbledore so sure about you." The chair squawked against the hardwood floor as David turned it. He gestured to the files that lay open in his lap. "They tell an interesting story, but an incomplete one." 

"A friend, as I said," Severus answered, holding his chin up and meeting the fire-flecked hazel eyes of the other wizard. 

"Of course. Naturally, you don't have to tell me anything, but I'm a firm believer in talking things through. The time ahead of you is going to be difficult; not so different from joining the Death Eaters in mistrust and pain. 

"I would like this to go as smoothly as possible. I would like for you to trust me; I'm not reporting this to anyone outside these walls." 

"He... he was my friend." 

David sighed. "That's fine. Maybe you'll feel like talking a bit more later. As it is, I think it's time to get started. It's really not that difficult to become an animagus, or there wouldn't be so many unregistered." 

*******

"I always believed it to be a difficult process." Severus looked doubtfully at the potion--roiling and brilliant blue--in his hand. "There is no potion to make someone an animagus." 

"Of course not," David said, grinning wryly. "Who would know better than you? But there are potions to help if you know what to expect. No, I'm not questioning your knowledge or ability. The simple fact is that the process is unpleasant, and there are a variety of things one can do to ease it. That's why becoming an animagus without the help of someone who already is one is... unadvisable. If you're interested, I have several journal articles on it. The Ministry always needs their justification for things." 

Severus sniffed the potion, careful not to inhale too deeply. "What is this?" The smell, the color, the texture, in this combination were any potion he was aware of. 

"No worry. I've brewed a potion or two in my time. Just drink it and we'll see what it tells us." David's eyes sparkled as he leaned against his workbench, watching his new student. 

"I trust you for no good reason, which makes me not trust you." Before David could comment, Severus tilted back the phial and swallowed the blue liquid. 

Doubling over and gagging almost immediately, Severus clutched his stomach and shot an accusatory glare at David. Sharp pains were stabbing through him, and though they were in his midsection, they were not originating from his stomach. It was deeper, more like a violent, agonizing portkey, the hook caught on his insides. 

"It's not poison. You won't die or even suffer any damage," David said mildly. He was watching very closely. 

Dry heaving, Severus fell to his knees. Drool fell from his gaping mouth and puddled in front of him as the violence in his gut grew. 

"And there we are, Mr. Snape." There was something close to pride in David's voice. "Now we know what your animagus form will be." 

Eyes blurred by tears, Severus looked up to see something resembling a patronus on the floor at David's feet. It was silvery and insubstantial, much like a ghost. It couldn't be a patronus, at least not his own; it took a completely different shape. Also, in contrast to a patronus, there were several wispy tendrils clinging to him, coiled around his arms. They tingled, like raw magic trickling from his skin. 

"There's no optimal form, of course," David continued, watching the shape move sluggishly about, "though there are many less than useful ones. Can't very well be traipsing about a gathering of Death Eaters as an elephant, can you?" 

"Patronus...?" 

"Not a patronus." David kneeled and cupped the wispy serpent in his hands. "This is your animagus form." 

*******

Severus wasn't sure why exactly, but he was damned bitter. Of every creature know to Muggle and wizard, he had to be a snake. What was it that made him a snake and not a... a bat? He had been called that often enough. Or a raven, or one of a hundred other things? But no, a snake, just like that annoying name they had called him at school. 

Little Severus Snake, didn't have parents anymore, just an old biddy of a grandmother. 

"Everything," he whispered. "I did everything to get them to like me." 

"It never worked, did it?" David placed a cup of tea on the side table, then sat in a russet armchair across from Severus. 

"Never. Nothing I did, no matter how hard I tried to like them..." With pale, trembling hands, Severus lifted the cup and drank from it. After wiping his mouth with the back of his sleeve, he cradled the delicate cup in both his hands. "My family was rich, my mother... should have been accepted. It should have been enough." 

"When did it go too far? When did you reach the point you couldn't take it?" David asked as he leaned forward eagerly. Out of sight was a quill recording everything that was said. "When did you fight back and make them fear you?" 

After another drink of his tea, no sip here, Severus slumped in his chair and stared into the softly glowing remains in the fireplace. "My third year. I at least waited until we were at Hogwarts, though it was difficult; from the moment I saw them on the train, I wanted to curse them. Worse than that." He glanced at the older man. "I wanted to use Cruciatus on them." 

"The other Slytherins?" No judgment, just curiosity. 

"Especially them. It was easier to accept it all from the Gryffindors; that's just House rivalry. I didn't have to lay down and let the others step on me." Very calm and controlled now. It had been years, and though it still had power over him, he could control it. The power was within him now in a way it hadn't been in school. Severus smiled with grim satisfaction. "My mother taught me, of course. But before, the determination and will hadn't been there. I showed them the first night in the dorm what the true child of a Death Eater was capable of. Word _did_ get around quickly after that." 

"And what happened was kept strictly within the walls of Slytherin." It wasn't much, didn't add a whole lot, but did open up new topics of inquiry. 

"Naturally, or I'd be in Azkaban right now with no hope of ever seeing the outside." 

"But everyone knew..." 

"Some of the Slytherins knew. The rest merely suspected/ I took pride in my reputation after that. It was one of the few things I could." He finished the dregs of his tea. 

"More?" 

"Please." 

David gestured at the eta service, and it floated to Severus' side. 

As Severus began to make himself tea, he said casually, "So how are you related to Dumbledore?" 

The answer was just as casual. "He's my grandfather." 

"The eyes." Severus allowed his tea to get alarmingly dark. "Not the same color or even the same looks, but the same quality. No mistaking that." He sipped and nodded to himself. 

"You would have to know him well to get all that just from my eyes." David waved over the tea service to make his own cup. 

A wry smile graced Severus' lips just before he sipped again. "Most of my life has been spent in Hogwarts. I saw the headmaster once, maybe twice a week." 

"Your famous sarcasm. Not nearly as cutting as I had expected." 

"I'm too tired for cutting. The best I can manage is slightly witty with a hint of self-deprecation." 

David smiled half way to a grin. "That's perfectly fine. I'm sure you'll be back to your old standard in no time." 

Severus nodded in reply, and there was silence between them for a short time. 

"I want to ask you something," David said solemnly, setting his cup down and looking intently at Severus. 

"I don't want to talk about my mother," Severus said flatly, his cup abandoned as he crossed his arms defensively across his chest. 

**TBC**


	3. Part 3

[Characters are the creation of JK Rowling. I am not claiming them as my own, nor attempting to make money from them, and neither should you.]

The Longest Year

part 3

a story by Scorpio Grudge

* * *

"How...? Why not? Did she--" 

Acidly, Severus hissed, "My mother loved me. The idea that she or my father or my grandparents would ever harm me is ludicrous and offensive! If that is all..." He stood and meant to stride from the room, but David had his wand out. 

"The fact that she was a Death Eater doesn't bother you?" David's voice and countenance were calm except for the dangerous flashing in his eyes. "That was reason enough for me to believe she was willing to hurt anyone in her way. She was going to give you to Voldemort!" 

"I was 11. You think I'll just start hating her? If people knew even a quarter of what they think they know about Death Eaters..." He paused, glaring with fury at David. "Go on. Say whatever it was about my mother." The sound of his teeth grinding was impossibly loud in the large room. 

"I just wanted to ask why. Why did _she_ follow Voldemort?" 

That sucked all the rage from Severus, the hard light in his eyes fading, and he stared, slightly dumbstruck. "I... I don't know," he answered softly, before the sharp mask of indifference fell smoothly into place. "Probably the same reason everyone assumes I did." 

The well-practiced masks were falling into place more often now, and though they were a handicap to what David was trying to do, they would serve well in the normal Ministry dealings. "I don't think that of you, Severus, though it is a possibility for her. Do you think that was why she did it?" 

The mask stayed in place, but the thin shoulders sagged. "Yes. Probably. But I don't understand why she would want--" Knowing he had said too much, left himself open, Severus stopped and looked away. 

"Why she would want to be treated that way. I understand. Really." David let out a small laugh. "You must hate me for talking to you like this." 

"She _was_ a whore. Maybe not by choice, but she was. I know that now. The only thing I really have to hold on to is that the family resemblance is so strong on my father's side." 

"Look like your father, do you?" 

Severus shook his head. "My grandfather. My biological grandfather. I've seen pictures of him. My grandmother told me she didn't marry him for his looks or money, which is somewhat heartening because I have neither. When I was young, I didn't understand why anyone would get married for such an unimportant thing." The tension between the two men had faded, and Snape was feeling weary, so he slid into a conservative leather wingback near the doorway. A gave a genuine half-smile then. "Smart at that time, to me, was the ability to convert American dollars to British pounds to galleons. I was so ignorant." The smile faded, replaced by a sad frown. "If I weren't a wizard, I'd be a Muggle genius and not have any of the problems I have now." 

"If you were a Muggle, Severus, the wizarding world would be without a great asset." He chuckled suddenly. "It's all too bad really. I bet you'd make an impressive Minister of Magic." 

"I think I should be insulted," Severus grumbled, and gestured for another cup of tea. 

*******

The return letter came three days later. It was not, as he had briefly feared, a howler. His grandmother had a way with howlers that he had never seen matched. Tucking the plain envelope into his robes, he retreated to his rooms. 

_Dearest Severus, I don't have much to say. You are an adult and there is little I can make you do, so I will only ask that you come home. Yes, if I had the power, I would force you to return. _

You can't imagine how horrified I was when I was owled about your arrest. I tried to see you, but they wouldn't even allow that. I had no idea you had been released. The Ministry ignored all my correspondence, all my inquiries and threats. I thought I had lost you. 

I want to see you, see what they've done to you, if only for a day. 

I love you, Severus, and I don't want you to ever forget that. 

Love, Sonia 

He had stopped with the childish nicknames when he was five; ever since then, she had been either babushka on rare occasions or simply Sonia. His last living relative. 

However she hadn't stopped with her little names. As humiliating as they could be, it would be good to hear her say them once again. It was difficult to hold back the tears as they threatened again. Normalcy, or a feeble semblance of, once more. 

"What if I refuse?" 

Startled from the book he had been engrossed in, David looked up with one eyebrow arched. "Pardon?" 

"What if I refuse to participate in this circus? Tell the Ministry to go rot and take Winthorpe with them." 

"You sound... too eager. What's gotten into you?" David asked, ignoring the question. 

"Simple. I don't wish to do this. After the way I've been treated and the disrespect shown my family, why would I? To assume I would happily agree to this plan is both foolish and naive." 

"Equally simple, they'll put you back in Azkaban if you refuse to cooperate." 

Severus paused, his jaw clenching. "If they catch me." 

That got David moving, though slowly, keeping his movements casual. "I do work for the Ministry." A lazy flick of his wrist and his wand was in his hand. "I'll be the one stopping you." 

"So," Severus said, crossing his arms and looking completely unphased by having the wand pointed at him, "whether Azkaban or the Ministry building, I'm a prisoner." 

"Get used to it. There's no running now." 

"Will I be allowed to have a life, or will I be chained to a wall until I finally die that way?" 

"I imagine ther will be a period of probation until they start to believe your loyalty and that you won't run off, and then your private life will be your own again. Small comfort, I know." His fingers relaxed on his wand slightly. 

What personal life? At least though he'd be able to talk to his grandmother in person. It was ridiculous to even ask if he could do so at this point. The answer would undoubtedly be no, because the Ministry did not care about things like that. "Very well." Features schooled carefully blank at the sick helplessness and disgust in him, Severus stalked out of the room. 

*******

"How are you at Transfiguration?" 

Slowly, unable to really care what was to happen, Severus looked up from his book. "Acceptable." Better than acceptable, but he was sure there was no point in saying more. 

Standing in the doorway of Severus' room, a calculating look in his eyes, David gestured with his head. "That's a start. Come on. Time to begin the real work." 

Wanting to be anywhere else, do anything else, Severus shut the book and set it aside, allowing his fingers to caress the worn cover for a moment. "I could die doing this?" 

"No, you won't die. No one's ever reported a death." 

"Madness?" 

"Aye." 

"Mutation? Botched transformation?" 

"Just like any transfiguration." 

"And what will the Ministry do with me if any of those things happen? Tuck me back into my cell and forget I ever existed? Forget it's their fault I'm like that?" Severus almost cursed the day his magic had made itself known. That was slightly too drastic though, and he simply cursed his Slytherin Housemates. 

"You'd be released either into the custody of your family or placed in St. Mungo's, depending on your condition. Really, Severus," David said, his exasperation beginning to show, "do you have so little faith in your abilities?" 

"I have that little confidence in the esteemed Ministry of Magic." He relaxed visibly, head to toe, and stood. "Very well. How do we begin?" 

"First," David said, walking briskly and not checking to see that he was being followed, "the foundation of potions and the spell. I think with our combined abilities and knowledge, this should be a simple and painless process." 

Following silently, Severus was not as confident. 

Down in the workshop, David got out a group of potions and set them down in a line. 

Some were common brews, easily identified, and unfortunately Severus could imagine what he might need them for. "I thought we were just doing the spell today." 

"We are, but even the initial attempts can yield unexpected results. We won't take any chances here." David handed over the first bottle filled with a frothy, rust-colored liquid, and said, "Drink up." 

Muscle relaxant. More potent and faster working than the Muggle pill variety with the advantage of leaving the mind completely alert. Severus downed it without comment. 

"Next. And you might want to have a seat," David said, handing over the next potion and waving his hand. 

A chair nudged the back of Severus' legs, and he sat before downing the wit sharpening potion. It was a powerful one to judge by the extremely bitter taste of it. Though they weren't dangerous to mix in this way, ingesting so much magically charged liquid was making his stomach gurgle unpleasantly. 

"Just a couple more," David assured him, obvious noting the greenish cast Severus' face had taken on. "Home brews. They should be a bit gentler on your stomach." 

Some variation of a bone knitting potion, which was worrisome, but at the very least it didn't burn like Skele-Gro. 

"You compensate over time, as you get used to it, but in the beginning that will help," explained David as he handed over the next to last potion. "Something a bit like Far Sight," he added as it was consumed, "and now some ginger ale to help settle it all." 

Light brown, almost like butterbeer, and bubbling madly, Severus finished the entire glass at once. The belch that followed was massive, but his stomach did feel better after it. "Now what?" The feeling of having all the potions working on him at once was unnerving, something he didn't want to dwell on, with the rubbery feeling in his limbs and energy thrumming through his veins. He was entirely alert, more than usual, but he also felt disconnected from everything around him. The Far Sight deviant was about to send him on an out-of-body experience, which, his busily churning mind noted, was probably a fairly effective way to spy. 

"You feel it now, how it runs through you. This is the first step," David said, though his voice had an odd echoing effect to it that made Severus feel like he was in a tunnel. "The words, Severus. Concentrate on the words now." 

Oh yes. The words. Scrawled on a piece of parchment. That had been shoved into his hand. Why hadn't he noticed that? He had, his mind informed him. It just hadn't been relevant at the time. Relevant? It hadn't been _interesting_, not more interesting than whatever else he had been thinking of. The spying, out of body. Right. Spying. Not words. 

Yes, words. That he was supposed to be contemplating. His mind just didn't want to focus on them. Speaking them aloud could help, if just a whisper to himself. 

_That's a mistake!_

And as the last syllable left on his breath, he knew how right he was. It was impossible to miss the surge of raw magic--_that's why it can be done without a wand!_ he thought happily--that threatened to rip him apart at the seams. 

Another surge of boiling power, and he pitched himself to the floor to give himself more room to thrash about. Surge and fade, surge and fade, like a pulse. Now there was an interesting effect the Far Sight had on him, looking inward instead of out, to see that magical pulse inside of him, the trailing thread at his foot that he grabbed hold of. 

Grabbed and pulled, but instead of him pulling the thread, it pulled him, sending him through a white-blue tunnel of energy, pulsing around his body, hugging him tightly and then releasing. It was almost like sex, but less sweaty and without bothersome personal attachments. This was something he could get to like. 

But it was wild, and he needed to be in control Because Severus Snape _needed_ control. That was what he hated about his life so much, that he had never been a master of it. Only here, within himself, could he do that without the influence of anyone else for once. 

There was only his will to do it by, so gathering himself, he forced the power to obey him. It fought, twisted out of his control, as quick and agile as water and barely more substantial than smoke. It ran and he followed until it turned on him. More struggling, and then it pulsed and shrank into itself until it was a bright ball the size of a pumpkin, thrumming at his feet. 

Surrender. Finally he had control, and he reached down to partake of that power. His hand sank into the mass without resistance though, and it shivered at his touch. It shivered and slowly took the form of a large serpent. Long, but thin, whip-like, and it coiled briefly around his wrist before it dissipated leaving behind only the smell of rain water. 

"SEVERUS!" 

**TBC**


	4. Part 4

[Characters are the creation of JK Rowling. I am not claiming them as my own, nor attempting to make money from them, and neither should you.]

The Longest Year

part 4

a story by Scorpio Grudge

* * *

Eyes opened slowly, and the normal world collapsed on him. Dull aching pain from toes to head and David staring at him from only inches away. Eyes closed so he could groan pitifully and not be forced to see the reaction to it.

"You weren't supposed to do that! You could have been seriously hurt."

"So what the hell did I do?" He was displeased at his scratchy voice and lack of elegance.

"You changed, you fool! And you're lucky you changed back! You were just supposed to focus on the spell, not actually transform!" 

Once that was established, Severus tuned out the rest of David's tirade, and attempted to raise himself to full consciousness. Whatever had happened, it was worse than recovering from a fleet of bludgers; no thoughts would come easily, and even the smallest movement sent white hot spikes of pain into his skull. The only thing he could really do was shut his eyes and hope for the pain to pass. 

"Pain reliever and sleep potion to get you through the worst of it," David's voice informed him quietly, and the cool glass of a flask was at his lips.

He swallowed the liquid poured into his mouth more out of instinct than anything else, and allowed it to take hold of him.

The world revolved around him, but he was the serpent, the beginning and the end, the ouroboros. Simultaneously he experienced life and death, decay and rebirth, and he foolishly believed they had something to do with his life. His body tasted of filth; this was no rebirth, just unending decay. If death could be permanent just one time--

"_Enervate_!"

And his eyes shot open, shattering the dream into a million forgotten pieces. "What?" he snapped.

David, hovering over him, smirked. "You've been asleep for almost an entire day. We still need to discuss what happened yesterday, so get up, have something to eat--"

"And we can get started," Severus groaned. "Do you ever stop?" 

"No, and neither will you. Let's go."

Breakfast was very rich, high protein, more than Severus preferred, but David wouldn't allow him to get by on toast and tea. 

"You need to replenish yourself. Sleep can only help so much, and potions do catch up. I know; I've tried. A good healthy breakfast, just like your mother always made you eat. Don't forget you're still recovering from Azkaban as well." David was oblivious to the deadly glare directed at him.

"Thank you for the reminder. I do believe I _was_ beginning to forget." After that, Severus' appetite, not large in the first place, left him completely. "You wanted to talk," he growled and dropped his fork, "so start talking."

Nothing seemed able to shake David's impossibly cheery mood. "Right. So the spell, you said it aloud. Why?" He finished a half of toast in three large bites.

"With that many potions in me I couldn't even think of my name let alone concentrate on magic. What did you think would happen?" Damn, it was so much like trying to deal with Dumbledore. Severus scowled as the other man smiled brightly.

"Obviously I didn't know, but this just proves how easily this is going to go. No beginning student has ever managed a transformation on the first try. I've never worked with one, I've never read about one. This is something special."

Frowning in thought, Severus shook his head. "But Transfiguration--"

"That's where a lot of people make the mistake. It isn't quite Transfiguration. On a basic level, yes, but it's much more as well. In school you learn to change inanimate objects into other inanimate objects, and then living things into inanimate objects and vice versa. It's not really that difficult to do, is it? It takes practice to get the details, but turning a teapot to a turtle, a living thing, well... that's the stuff they make Muggle movies out of. Transfiguration is not that difficult until you get into the issue of control, Dr. Frankenstein. And what process requires more control than the animagus transformation?" David sat back, looking very smug. 

Severus yawned. "Fascinating." That managed to wipe the smile from David's face. "Your theory is wonderful, but in the end irrelevant." The words came to his lips and he saw the horrified expression on David's face just before pain lit his body one end to the other. There was no tunnel this time, no feeling of watching himself, just hideous agony. _Like Cruciatus,_ he thought, and that helped, to know his mind was still there and it was something he had handled before.

Control. He had to take control even though it felt he was being crushed, each bone in his body being broken individually. Panic was threatening though. Control of what? The only thing to do was separate himself from the pain. That was how one dealt with the Unforgivable, not take control of it.

_Prove him wrong._ Prove David wrong because he didn't like the man's manner, always quick with an answer, but never providing any solutions.

Control or separation? Pick something just to make it all end! Finally, just let the instincts take over, as had become so easy when rocked by the Cruciatus, so necessary when he was in Azkaban, so simple when doing Voldemort's bidding. The only person to trust was himself, trust that he would know best how to protect himself.

Protect himself from the world that would see him destroyed.

~

"Not bad, but still bloody dangerous. How do you feel?"

"Ow." His voice was scratchy once more, and his throat was parched. The idea of opening his eyes made his head throb. "What happened? Besides the obvious."

A cool glass was pressed into his hand, and he raised it to his lips, briefly smelling the lemony scent of a restorative in the water before drinking deeply.

"You managed it again, a little longer this time," David said, and took the near-empty glass. "You looked like hell though, not lucent at all. Then after you changed back, you passed out and I brought you up here. I wouldn't recommend trying that any time soon; your energy is dangerously low, and to cope with that amount of pain in your condition..."

Severus opened his eyes, fighting through the gumminess, and looked straight at David. "I'm not looking forward to trying it again any time soon."

*******

**[Excellent progress. Initial transformation achieved. Timetable uncertain due to temperament of candidate. Expect next advance within seven days.]**

"At this rate, you'll have a new agent within the month, Octavius. You can't ask for better progress than that."

Octavius Millner, head of the Ministry of Magic's Espionage division, scowled. "One? I need ten more, Wilthorpe!"

"You get one. I can't do more. No one willingly signs up for this work, and we can't use just any wizard we have leverage over. And no way will I ever employ a witch for such delicate work." He grabbed a mint from the small crystal dish on his desk and ground it savagely between his teeth. "What do you want me to do?"

Face beginning to flush, making the taller, heavier man look even more indignant, Octavius stood. "I want Ministry support! We get nothing from the lot of you pen-pushers. My men, who risk their lives, are using the same equipment they were two years ago!"

"We can't spare--"

"My arse you can't spare any! I can't spare anymore _men_! It's a handful now. When it's down to one, and then none, what will you do?" He slammed his hands on the desk, making everything on it jump with the force, and leaned close. "Damn it, Arnold. They're as willing as can be asked of them to do the work. I'm just asking you to stop them from dying."

The current Minister of Magic was a much more imposing figure than Cornelius Fudge had been, but at the moment he looked small and tired. "To tell you the truth, Octavius, we don't _have_ anything we can give you. We're using the same equipment, and I'm perfectly aware of how inadequate it is." His nearly luminous blue eyes showed genuine regret. "And for security reasons, I can't just tell the researchers what you need. There are Death Eaters here, pretending to be one of us. We can't give _anything_ away."

"This is ridiculous!" Millner said, then fell back into his chair. "We can't just sit back and let them run all over us. It won't work. We need to go--"

"On the offensive. Yes, I know. That's being done to the best of our ability."

Millner was aware of the identity and history of his infrequent new recruits, and rarely did he approve of the circumstances. "Yes, I've read about it, stealing teachers out of their classrooms. You've got no idea what those aurors of yours do. Not only are my men threatened by Voldemort, but they've got to watch for wand-waving simpletons looking for notoriety and a promotion. If you won't do it, then I want my own researchers that--"

"No. No, I can't do that." Wilthorpe's voice was rising in volume with each reply. "I can't turn over your own political faction within the Ministry. I can't give you--"

"A fighting chance," Millner's voice cut him off cleanly. "I see that, Minister." He stood slowly, calm and dignified. "At least I'll have one man who has some skills. Maybe he'll live longer than the last one. Good day, Minister." Octavius Millner bowed and left.

*******

Indeed his body did compensate, and with some assistance from potions, Severus' animagus transformations were nearly under his total control. The pain still got to him, conversely because he was so experienced with it. The way he was forced to deal with it was completely the opposite.

"Octavius Millner will be paying a visit soon," David said calmly as he watched man struggle to become snake. "You'll be working for him."

A grunt in response.

"He's a good man in my estimation. I know this isn't something you or anyone else would choose, but he does his best for those in his employ. Yes, that's it." He nodded in satisfaction at the snake draped over the chair.

It moved sluggishly, looking left and right with a hesitant flicker of the tongue. This was the first movement of control, of true consciousness. It was terrifying. Everything was different, every sense, every bit of self-knowledge, all bodily controls... Trying to move yielded only his entire body, all of its considerable length, sliding off the chair and hitting the floor.

Surprisingly, it didn't hurt.

"Now here's the rub, Severus: can you turn back?"

David's voice was horribly muffled, almost to the point that he was unintelligible. In annoyance, not quite under his own control, Severus' tail began to quiver.

"You're no rattlesnake, my boy. I'm not intimidated in the least," David said, grinning. He reached down to take hold of the snake.

Sluggish and clumsy muscles were instantly alert, and, under instinctual control, shot Severus forward, under the reaching hands and between the booted feet. One hand almost took hold of his tail, but he managed to pull free of that warm, crushing sensation and his under the armoire. Tongue flickering rapidly now, Severus tracked David as the man moved toward his hiding place.

"Settle down. I don't want to hurt you. Think like a man. Don't let your instincts rule you or you might never turn back." Crouching, David peered into the dark space. Light reflecting off black scales was all he could see. "I'll show you how easy it is." From his hands and knees, David changed, transformed into a completely unassuming starling.

Ruffling his brown and black feathers, he cocked his head to the side to see under the armoire. With a piercing cry of annoyance, he hopped back and repeated the gesture. The bird waited for a moment, then hopped to the side and did the same again.

Finally, the snake emerged, slowly as he still wasn't used to his situation, dragging the parts of his body that he couldn't coordinate yet.

The bird was man again, and this time he did not reach out, to Severus' relief.

"I know it's not pleasant at the beginning, too strange, too many sensations, can't control yourself properly, but you'll learn. Just don't let yourself fall into the trap of thinking like an animal, letting instinct take over for rational thought. Unless you find the idea of spending the rest of your life as a snake." David stood, keeping his eyes on his charge. "Now, I wouldn't recommend too much exploring just yet. Get the transformation under control or you might find yourself in a situation a snake can't get itself out of. I'll go put the tea on."

**TBC**


	5. Part 5

[Characters are the creation of JK Rowling. I am not claiming them as my own, nor attempting to make money from them, and neither should you.]

The Longest Year

part 5

a story by Scorpio Grudge 

* * *

It got quicker and less painful, and control in a completely foreign body grew. This would be one the Ministry would put to good use if he could stay alive long enough. And now came the hard part. David disliked this most of all. With the others, the process was less... permanent. It was better for the others to go through it, to help them face the enemy. With Severus, David didn't get that impression. This was more a disservice to a man who had lived in near isolation for at least half his life.

A slow, calculated pattern of rejection to get the defenses to fall into place.

It was easy to start. Simple irritation, made easier by the fact that David knew Severus wouldn't ask what the problem was. Irritation, shortness that kept the other wary and at bay. It took longer with the others, whose defenses were not as well developed. Here... Confusion at first, on Severus' face, but as the treatment continued, that changed to a careful schooled blankness.

Soon, with that self-defense in place, when he gained full control of his transformation, it would be time to turn him over to the Ministry.

*******

"Octavius. Good to see you. Come in."

"I'm not sure if I prefer our meetings to be more or les frequent," Millner returned, shaking David's hand. "Never the less, it's necessary." As David stepped aside to let the first man through, he turned to the second. "Don't trust me?" he asked.

"I trust you as much as anyone. I'm sure you've taken very good care of Severus." Albus placed one affirming hand on his grandson's shoulder.

"Yes, well..."

With a sad smile, the old man shook his head. "I know. I understand that what must be done, simply must. I won't expect a warm greeting, but I do want to see him."

"He's waiting in the other room."

It was, unfortunately, as Dumbledore remembered. Standing with a slight sneer on his pale face, dark eyes glittering malevolently, and encased in black robes, was Severus Snape. Not the familiar teacher who tried the headmaster's patience endlessly, but a throwback, something closer to the Death Eater he had once been.

No wonder David had been so apologetic. Instead of his usual greeting, filled with warmth, Albus just nodded and smiled. He received no response. In fact, Severus withdrew further by crossing his arms over his chest, closing his outer robes completely like a shell.

"I won't even pretend," Millner began without introduction, "to go through any silly testing. You're our only choice and we need the help."

Snape nodded, his face shuttered to the world.

"If you're ready then..."

"I am."

Nothing like the voice that had greeted Dumbledore at the last meeting.

"Severus," David said before they could leave, "upstairs, you things--"

Sneering, as if addressing a bothersome servant, Snape replied, "Burn it all."

If Millner was at all surprised by the behavior he didn't show it. He just walked out after a polite nod of farewell with Snape sweeping behind him.

The nod did not extend to Dumbledore.

~

Outside, as Millner prepared the portkey that would take them directly to his office, Snape said, "There is something I require. I assume it is still at Hogwarts unless the Ministry claimed all my possessions."

A grunt as the initial response. "I realize you need to get settled now, and there's some... protocol we like to practice. You won't be going anywhere for us until that, at the very least, is done."

"Very well. At your soonest convenience then."

With the portkey ready, Millner held it out. When Snape touched it, they were both instantly shifted to a cramped office with grey walls and no window. The shabby desk took up most of the room, leaving space for a pair of equally shabby chairs and a battered file cabinet.

"Dungeons of Hogwarts to the dungeons of the Ministry. Sit down." Millner eased himself into his own chair, which squealed loudly as it accepted his weight. "You're welcome to live wherever you wish, except you must know that for all our agents we have a strict policy of no floo travel or communication, and completely camouflage your residence. This is security second only to having a secret keeper. No one has access unless you allow it, and that is kept on record here. We do not indulge in emergency meetings or activities that are unplanned or secret from one another. Yes, this means our internal security has to be tight, but I will tell you that each one of those men out there is completely trustworthy. A spy amidst our spies? Unthinkable." He leaned back, the first movement since he had taken his seat, and folded his hands across his stomach. "I'd kill him myself and dare the aurors to come after me."

Not bothering to comment on any other aspect, Snape said, "I must secure housing then."

"I'll leave the matter to you, though the Ministry can recommend or act as reference if required. We'll deal with matters here first." Millner stood, the chair squeaking just as loudly, and opened the plain wooden door. "These are our illustrious offices. This is where you'll waste your time dealing with the Ministry's obsessive need for paperwork. Nobody but us comes here. Not even Wilthorpe. I wouldn't let him after Fudge."

The room was, by generous estimate, ten meters square. The walls followed the same pattern as Millner's office, being windowless and drab grey. It was all rather... bunker-like. Though small, the room was holding only five men and their desks with room for perhaps three more.

It was a dreary oppressive place that stunk of hopelessness.

"Gentlemen," Millner said loudly before Snape could comment, "you attention. I hate to pull you away from your important work..." He waited for the humor to sink in, but the dull-eyed men just looked at him blankly. "We've finally got someone out the Minister. Looks like that'll be it for a while, and no new equipment. Snape here will be included immediately on our next planning session. That's tomorrow." 

"I," Snape began silkily as the men all turned back to their work, "have a bit of skill with potions if that will be of help." Without conscious knowledge of it, he began to rub his hands together. As he had done in Voldemort's presence, eager to prove his worth.

Millner looked at him, a calculating glint in his eyes. "So it's true. I wondered if you were just a teacher or a true master."

"Potions and other things as well. Things... less appreciated by the Ministry." It was crazy to be saying these things, admitting his crimes, his penchant for those things that he had freely indulged in his younger days.

Millner nodded, accepting without questioning. While the men had mostly returned to their work before, they now observed him closely. Unlike the aurors, who only saw the surface and judged immediately, these men now studied him.

It was terribly disconcerting, knowing they would happily pry him apart with their eyes if they could. Snape scowled and not a one of them was affected by it. While curious and distasteful before, the idea of working with these men apparently ripped from the same cloth as he, thrown to the ground, stepped on, cut up and sewn poorly back together...

Maybe this was something he could accept as long as actual enjoyment was not an issue.

*******

The house looked so abnormally average. Snape found tremendous irony in the fact he would be living there. Not permanently, no, because to actually purchase it would mean he would never leave. One way or another he would eventually free himself of this servitude, and the house would be an inconvenience.

Just renting the house rather than some flat was absurd enough, but after living--if what he had done up to that point could be considered living--in borrowed rooms, the idea of space all his own that nobody could enter was more tempting than his normal reservedness could handle.

Balls, it felt wonderful for once to not owe anything to anyone. Granted, the Ministry had him on a leash, nut not even that stopped him from finally living without obligations. Unwilling wizard's debt or not, Harry Potter could no longer be his concern. No more students, no more inane "favors" for Dumbledore, no more stone vault of unpleasant memories and unsympathetic watchdogs.

Hogwarts could rot.

Staring up at the darkened ceiling of his bedroom for the first night of his new residence, it surprised him to realize he really meant it. After he retrieved his from the castle then to never see it again would not be a loss.

That night he slept more peaceful than he had in more than ten years.

*******

If it weren't for the students still swarming the castle, he would have gone there immediately. As it was, he wouldn't be able to wait until the term was over to clear out his things. There were just some things he could not do without, not to mention his brewing skills were sadly out of practice, and he had some very high quality things he didn't want anyone else using.

The scales had been perfectly balanced and of his ideal design and size. His cauldron... If he actually caught someone using his cauldron, there would definitely be hell to pay. Nobody used Severus Snape's cauldron without permission, whether he was alive or dead. Or in Azkaban. And his books. Years of collecting, though not all were rare, they all had their place, and to find one missing, even just his old school texts...

But why work himself into a frenzy over it? Hogwarts had already lost his trust, his confidence. Though that was a relatively recent development, if he hadn't been desperate to escape Voldemort's service, it would have happened a very long time ago.

When his grandmother had wanted to remove him after the werewolf incident and given that cozy group of Gryffindors a tongue-lashing they'd never forget. Forgotten, hopefully.

The look on McGonagall's face when Sonia had ripped the staff and students apart... Priceless. The only true justice he had ever seen, to watch Sirius Black reduced to tears, and James Potter try to deny the life debt.

Lupin... Lupin had looked straight into the enraged woman's eyes and hadn't flinched, hadn't cowered, no trace of anger or fear on his face. He had looked completely resigned to his fate. It was that moment that Sonia, and Severus just a tiny bit, softened.

Right then and there Sonia Snape had tried to drag her grandson from Hogwarts, claiming negligence, irresponsibility and bias on part of the staff, and truly dangerous criminal behavior by the students. One sentence he could still clearly hear her say: "If this is the behavior you allow your 'top'--" with unmistakable sarcasm "--students to engage in without so much as a loss of your little points, then I must seriously question your appointment as headmaster."

His grandmother hadn't attended Hogwarts, had never been judged by the hat, but by Merlin's wand she was a Slytherin through and through.

McGonagall had ushered out the Gryffindor boys, and that had infuriated the old woman even more. She had grabbed his hand in an iron grip and turned to leave.

"No. I want to stay," he had foolishly insisted. "I want to stay here."

"Severus, I will enroll you in the Sir Dingly-Dang Correspondence School of Elementary Magic before I let you return to these classrooms. Besides, I can teach you more at home than these... child-killers can."

Never had her eyes burned so fierce than at that moment.

"I won't let them get the better of me by leaving." His voice quiet, but strong.

"Did I not warn you, Mr. Snape--" Dumbledore had either not noticed or simply ignored the fact that Sonia had been positively vibrating with fury. "Speaking of these events would result in your expulsion?"

A bomb in the guise of a grey-haired witch. "He is almost _killed_ and now you're going to _expel_ him for telling me? Sir, I am insulted, my family is insulted, and most importantly of all, my grandson is insulted by such a callous threat to his health and education. The Board _will_ be hearing of this."

Severus had looked at her very seriously and spoken, as a 16 year old, the way he would when he was truly a man. "I want to stay. I want to look at them every day. I want them to know that I didn't run and I didn't let you fight my battle for me." Revenge. Plain and simple, but Sonia respected him, had always respected him, and let him control his own fate.

"Severus, I don't want you to stay. They don't respect you here." 

Spoken without regard for the headmaster's presence. He loved that about her, unafraid to speak under any circumstances.

"I don't want their respect. I don't need their respect. They don't meany anything to me. But I won't let them chase me away just because I'm not a Gryffindor. None of them." His eyes had rested briefly on Dumbledore.

**TBC**


	6. Part 6

[Characters are the creation of JK Rowling. I am not claiming them as my own, nor attempting to make money from them, and neither should you.]

The Longest Year

part 6

by LB 

* * *

In the end of the whole travesty of justice, the Board never heard of the incident, all involved parties remained in school, and they managed to ignore one another. 

That always dredged up a different set of memories that Severus banished immediately. Some things belonged firmly in the past. Yes, in the past, if only for the safety of those involved. 

No. Bury them deep where not even Voldemort could dig them out. Not impossible; he had doing it for thirty years now. What was a few more, because surely that was only as long as he would live. 

Levering himself out of the bed, his bare feet silent on the sedate mint carpet (not his first choice, but certainly cool and relaxing), he retrieved a quill and parchment from the tiny desk. Laughable for an academician, but fine for a lowly Ministry employee. He sat at the desk and began to write. Tried to, anyway. 

He certainly did not want his grandmother visiting him, but letter by a familiar hand wouldn't be unwelcome. 

This added another item on his list of errands for the morning: an owl. And it couldn't be from Diagon Alley, unless he felt like using a disguise, but those days were long past. No, he'd have to find some new place to get his supplies, or have them delivered to the office at the Ministry if necessary. 

And only a week to get his life into some semblance of order. Perhaps it was time to take a chance and live in disorder once more. With his time his own, things were looser, and with his house and his own space, it wasn't such an imperative to keep things locked up or secreted away. Merlin, could he survive leaving a book out of place? Or the door to his room unlocked? Even growing his own dangerous plants? 

Living without the certainty of disaster every day... 

_How can I do it, Babushka? I barely know how to live?_

***

Back and forth, back and forth. It was possible, with every transformation, to feel it growing easier. The pain dimmed to an ache, then just a general stiffness in his shoulders. That became part of his morning routine, and would so until it was perfected. 

Breakfast was a brief affair, just toast and a cup of weak tea before he was on his way to Hogwarts. Such light food still gave him trouble as he apparated, his body barely used to flavors now. The time at David's hadn't cured him of Azkaban, and most likely he'd carry some of those scars with him forever. 

No time to consider it though because the massive gates were waiting for him, open, as if the castle were aware of his return. So much the better. Maybe he'd be able to avoid Dumbledore. 

The front doors opened silently under his touch, and he went inside, making his way immediately for the dungeons. Now the worry over the state of his things was biting at his heels. His potions equipment, his books, even his clothes and his most beloved cloak. 

A cloak that he kept tucked away with th other memories mostly. It had been used more than once in an unsavory fashion that nobody ever needed to know about. Such comfort it could provide... 

"Severus." 

He stopped, not allowing himself to cringe. "I'm here to collect my things." His voice was as steady as he could force it to be, and he refused to turn around. 

"I see." A pause, then the quiet sound of robes over stone. "I had it all moved for you so it would not be disturbed." 

A silent nod. There would be no thanks here. 

"I can show you--" 

"Tell me where and I will retrieve it myself. I don't want to disturb the staff." Dumbledore was a very tangible presence behind him; he would not relax until the old man was gone. 

A nearly silent sigh. "Your old rooms. We moved the classroom to avoid disturbing them, and put much of what was there away for you to sort through." 

He nodded curtly to the hallway in front of him and walked away. It pleased him that Dumbledore did not follow; he wouldn't stand to have someone stare over his shoulder while he gathered his belongings. None of them had made it their business when the aurors had removed him, so he would not allow them to make it their business now. 

This was his final washing away of Hogwarts from his person. It was only appropriate that they forget about him as well. In fact, he demanded it. No contact with any of them, no conversations on the street, no chatty letters, not even a card on the holidays. 

Even the ghosts and Peeves had enough sense to avoid him as he swept through the dungeon. Hallways he still remembered, knew better than the house he had grown up in. Wards on the door he had enabled and disabled every day for his entire time teaching. It was most like coming home, but that was unwanted sentimentality that he squashed easily. Hogwarts was not as much a home as he would have thought two years ago. 

Sorting through everything would have to wait until he was back in his new home because he just couldn't stand being in these dungeons any longer. Stone walls were enough to make his throat tighten up now; he needed to breathe. A wave of his wand, his new wand because his old had been snapped, and everything was stacked together neatly, even the furniture that belonged to him. Another wave and it was all miniaturized and in a pair of boxes. 

The boxes flew to his hands without any effort of his wand, and he was free to leave. It was good to be going. 

~ 

Breaking his old habits was a more difficult task than he had originally thought. If only those habits had been born of convenience... There would be no more shopping in Diagon Alley though, no more trips to the shops in Hogsmeade, and certainly no more trips to the obscure specialists he had once sought out. 

It took the rest of his morning, but he finally located a place in Ireland that suited his needs and wasn't too far out of his way. He got anonymity there though, and it certainly wasn't too much trouble for that. 

Everything he purchased from that row of tidy shops he had delivered to the Ministry. The new robes, the fresh assortment of potions ingredients, a sizable supply of parchment and quills, and even some basic household necessities. And he basked in the anonymity. Politeness greeted him at every doorway, enthusiasm when they saw the size of his purchases, and even fond farewells, asking him to return again. Once he even allowed himself to smile. 

Briefly he considered a broom, but he wasn't in the market for a quidditch or racing broom, and thought that if he truly needed one he would either be informed or provided with one. He had no idea what passed for a good broom anyway. Years of indifference and then outright deprivation had done that. 

However, he could not skip on purchasing an owl. Something fast, but not showy. Not one of those hyperactive midget beasts either. Letter and package delivery--with ease--were imperative. There was a shop, coincidentally next to the broom and quidditch supply store, that specialized in familiars of all kinds for wizards and witches of any age. 

He wasn't sure exactly how much of the Irish wizarding community the store serviced, but the selection of familiars was impressive, certainly better than any one store in Diagon Alley. The shop was much larger on the inside than appeared and was filled with a huge selection of cats, toads, rats, owls, even a pair of sullen-looking German shepherds, and other more specialized animals. 

A witch waited patiently behind the counter at the back as he walked slowly, eyeing all the owls. He snorted at a snowy owl. As if he would ever buy one of those. 

"All fine birds, sir," the woman said as he grew closer. "Not one over a year old. Even have a raven if that's your preferred style." 

"Unreliable things," he said dismissively. "Too nosy by half. I can't have a bird sticking its beak into my potions." 

The woman was undeterred by his negative tone. "I agree completely, but there's always one or two that like the challenge." 

"Mm." Familiars were very much like wands to him: one would make itself known to him, and that would be his choice. If the familiar picked the wizard then the issue of reliability and loyalty was not a concern. When no person could be counted on, he wanted a faithful owl. 

"What about this one?" he asked as he stared right back into a pair of amber eyes. "Very unique. I don't think I've seen one before." It didn't jump to his shoulder, or nip his finger, or do anything beyond gaze at him, but this was the owl that had caught his attention. Almost, very faintly, he could hear it speaking, but took it for an effect of stress. 

"We got it in just two days ago. From Sri Lanka. Very distinctive. Fast flyer. Reliable and easy to take care of. Some of those tropical owls can be right picky." 

He raised his eyebrows at the bird, which blinked slowly in response. Then he held his arm out, and with the most dignified of efforts, the took its place there. "I'll take it." He smoothed the speckled feathers, and received a delicate nip. 

"Him, sir. That's a him. Very handsome too. You'll be very pleased, I'm sure." 

~ 

The owl, now named Lorenz, waited downstairs while Snape fixed the attic up. One part would be for storage, and the other was for Lorenz. "Lorenz!" 

A quiet whooshing of wings and the owl maneuvered up through the hatch and immediately perched on the mid-level roost. This was acceptable. 

"Are you ready to make a delivery?" 

The first sound Lorenz made in his presence was a soft, affirmative hoot. 

"I shall have a letter shortly then." 

_If I must._

Snape stared at the owl. "Was that you?" 

Lorenz just closed his eyes. 

Though not entirely sure, it seemed very much like the owl had spoken to Snape. 

***

_If you won't allow me to visit you, then you must come back to the manor for a day or two. I can't believe you even suggested that I not see you. Young man, your priorities are certainly cock-eyed._

Well, the old woman was right. He would have to see her if only to get her to stop pestering him. And pestering was the last thing he needed while working on these potions. 

Eyes still raking over the letter, he absently stirred the potion bubbling madly away in his cauldron. Invisibility potions were notoriously easy to make, which was why they were never even mentioned to his... students... 

That were no longer his students. He shoved the thought away and continued to stir with so much vigor the pale pink liquid sloshed over the sides. Hogwarts, he found, was still not important to him, but the thought of his students, his Slytherins... That was much more difficult to let go of. 

So many had been influenced by him, not just to avoid Voldemort, but to actively fight against the dark wizard in whatever way they could. His reward for such loyalty and service... He truly believed that loyalty was the one thing he valued in the world. Too bad he couldn't give his to anyone, nor receive it from anyone. 

With a casual wave of his hand not stirring the potion (he had used the wrong hand once before and splattered the wall with unfinished Pepper Up potion, leaving blue dots there for a month) he summoned quill and parchment. The most frightening thing about going to see his grandmother again was that his control would almost certainly slip in her presence. 

_I will have to see what days I am allowed, but surprisingly, the Ministry seems lenient on this regard._

What else to write? She would want as many details as he could give her, but they were not to be expressed in writing. In the end, there wasn't much to tell anyway for he would not speak of Azkaban, and the rest would wait. 

He certainly couldn't tell her of what Dumbledore had done, as it was certainly the old wizard that had protected Snape's personal assets from the Ministry, and Sonia still harbored resentment for the werewolf incident. To mention Dumbledore to her would only get her started on why he hadn't protected Snape himself instead of just his possessions. 

_I am doing as well as can be expected._

What a pathetic excuse for a letter. 

"Lorenz." 

_Too many bloody letters._

Yes, that did seem to be the owl "speaking" to itself. "That _is_ your job," he snapped, and was rewarded with a quizzical look. "Yes, I am speaking to you. I know you understand me, and it seems I understand you. Now deliver this letter without the commentary." He fixed the owl with his best glare. "It is of no concern to replace you." 

_Touchy_. Lorenz nipped his finger rather more viciously than necessary then took off with the letter. 

**TBC**


	7. Part 7

[Characters are the creation of JK Rowling. I am not claiming them as my own, nor attempting to make money from them, and neither should you.]

The Longest Year

part 7

a story by Scorpio Grudge 

* * *

"Invisibility potions? Those will come in useful, I'm sure." 

Invisibility, restoratives, night sight, all the potions he had used as a Death Eater and Dumbledore's agent. Though no doubt these men were used to such potions, perhaps they were not familiar with the potency he had brewed them to. 

When not forced to worry about a dozen other tasks, the potions that came out of his cauldron could be more up to ten times more powerful than wand magic. One concentrated polyjuice potion could actually last up to two hours. 

"And there will be more?" Millner asked, though it sounded more like a veiled order. 

Snape nodded. "As I can replenish my stores." 

"That I will do something about. If we can get you the supplies--" 

"I can provide whatever potion you might need." It felt good to be able to say that, to be able to talk about his abilities again, to not be taken for granted. "There is something else you may wish to see," he added quietly. "I have used it since I was in school. It has proven to be invaluable." 

"What is it?" There was actually a sparkle of excitement in the director's heavy-lidded eyes. 

"A night cloak." 

A brief moment of stunned silence. "Where did you ever find a night cloak to buy?" They were both speaking in a hushed whisper now. 

"I made it. As I said, I have a rather... deep interest in the dark arts." Preparation to be disbelieved. 

Millner blinked, looking completely shocked. "You made it? When you were in _school_? I've never known any adult wizards to make one." 

_Or witches, I'm sure,_ Snape thought to himself. He knew a few with the skill, just not the knowledge. He didn't think he would be adding that knowledge to the Ministry's collective intelligence pool either. "We need to speak of this in private." 

Research and development. Something he had always wanted to do, just not under the current circumstances. And he wasn't confined to potions. The high was easily able to overcome the low for Snape. 

For now his tasks were to replenish the stock of potions, do his best (which meant immediately--failure was not an option) to get another night cloak, and to see what he could do with Millner's short list of requested magical utilities. He would not be going on any missions for the time being, which was also the perfect opportunity to visit his grandmother. 

Another night cloak... The first had been difficult enough, and to make more than one was certainly unheard of. Pride would not allow him to consider that he could not. He could. He could do the potions, and he could make the trinkets too. 

Severus Snape could because he wasn't afraid to use any dark magic necessary. If the Ministry truly wanted to defeat the Death Eaters and destroy Voldemort, they would see the benefit in this. 

Not that it all made sense anyway. Half the things the Ministry considered dark magic were really just average components _used_ in dark rituals or in conjunction with dark magic. 

What was so dark about a simple tracking spell? It was very common for outlaw wizards or witches to use the charm on an intended victim. Making it illegal hadn't done anything to deter its use by these people at all. Unfortunate then because tracking charms were going on the night cloak and each device he made. 

A free hand. He had it for the time being, and he planned on making use of it. 

*******

_Always smelling like bad--_

"I don't need your opinion, Lorenz. I am doing work. You should try it once in a while." A pinch of beetle eyes were tossed in the bubbling cauldron. 

_I deliver your bloody letters. That's work._

Snape snorted. "Hardly. You pester me while I'm doing important tasks. You're just like a damnable Gryffindor." A dash of powdered puffadder tooth. 

_If I knew what that was, I might be offended._

"Why you and not a nice, quiet raven?" 

The owl turned its back on the wizard. 

*******

"Nice. What is it?" 

"It's a dark magic locator. Only the darkest though, not the... borderline things considered dark." 

Harry turned it over in his hand. "I've got no use for it. I know a spell--" 

"That drains your energy and only works when you cast it. Really, Potter, you can't see what use it would be?" 

Harry frowned. "No, Wilthorpe, I can't. I don't need this thing howling at me because someone just charmed a teacup to make it bite. Besides, when did R&D get so useful?" 

The Minister of Magic slowly turned brick red while trying to answer evenly. "I told you, only the darkest magic, _real_ dark magic, and... it wasn't made by our R&D." 

Harry re-situated himself in his chair, his scowl flattening out to make him appear merely doubtful. "Who made it then, and how do you know it can be trusted?" 

The color in Wilthorpe's face faded, but not completely. "It was made in Espionage." That spoke for itself when it came to the issue of trust-worthiness. 

That, however, only served to anger Harry. "Espionage? Why do they have their own R&D? Why don't we--" 

"They don't! They made it themselves. The new agent, and Octavius was kind enough to share it." 

This did not placate Harry. "Then what else are they holding back if they have this?" 

"Potter, it's their own skin--" 

"And it's not ours?" Harry snapped, his hand tightening around the device. "They're spies, we're Unspeakables. When did they become more important than us? Than the aurors? You give preference to a bunch of ex-prisoners while we die fighting." He threw the locator to the floor where it shattered. "You can tell your handyman in Espionage that we don't need a toy." 

"Potter!" Wilthorpe barked and was ready to say more at a similar volume, but abruptly shut his mouth. "Get out of my office. You don't want it, fine, but keep your opinions to yourself. No one is stopping you from working on your own--" 

With a snort, Harry stood and left. 

He swept through the hallways of the Ministry, his silver robes rippling behind him, and all other people clearing out of his way. Through a maze of hallways, several secure doors, up a stairway, and finally through a door that had no less than five security checks on it. 

"Ah, Potter. How did your little meeting go?" Henry Larsen, the director of the Department of Mysteries (which the Unspeakables fell under) asked as his star employee stomped in. "Not good? Something wrong with what he had to say?" 

"Not strictly, but I would like to know where they find the time and manpower to make new equipment for other departs. Why aren't we getting anything from the real R&D?" 

"What is eating at you, Potter? You've been this way for over a week. Pull yourself together." 

Shaking his head, one hand massaging the area of his scar, Harry sat in the nearest chair. "It's nothing. Nothing." 

Affixing the young wizard with an intimidating glare, Larsen nodded curtly. "And that's the way I expect it." 

Shortly before dinner that evening, Harry was walking down the deserted Ministry hallways. His footfalls echoed in the large marble corridor, very loud in the irregular silence of the place. 

"Potter." 

He whirled around at the hiss of his name, wand drawn. "P-Professor Snape!" There could hardly be a more shocking event at the moment. "What are you--" 

"Shut up, boy." 

Snape was not scowling at him or glaring at him, but downright snarling. The sound of his crooked teeth grinding was audible. "Professor, I--" 

"You _know_ I don't teach now; stop calling me that!" His voice was still a dangerous hiss. 

"I suppose I did, but it seems strange to call you Sev--" 

"_Never_ call me that! You do not have permission to do so. I was informed that you were dissatisfied with dark magic detector, that you didn't need toys like that from me. Is that how it will be? Still with your imbecilic notions of who is good and who is evil? Still think I'm reporting all of this to Voldemort?" 

Harry was stunned. "You made that? You work for Espionage?" 

"I do. Now, Potter, tell me what's wrong. Tell me why something I come up with isn't good enough Harry bloody Potter." 

The air was forced from Harry's lungs as Snape shoved him against the wall. "I didn't--" 

"You never had a clue, Potter! And you still don't. Fine. Next time I shall know better than to waste my time attempting to save any life other than my own. Arrogant brat!" In a swirl of black robes, he was gone, his footsteps still silent. 

It took Harry a moment to catch his breath, and then to figure out what had just happened. Yes, Snape being sent to Azkaban had been big news, but being released and working for the Ministry was not. 

Maybe it had been too hasty to break that little device. Snape was not his friend, but it was certainly better to have him as a willing ally than as an antagonistic co-worker. Not that it appeared the man would ever have anything to do with him again. 

Harry sighed and wondered briefly if he should contact Dumbledore. He had certainly made a mess of his day. 

*******

"Idiot boy!" The pestle in his hand ground the dried faeberries into a fine powder and beyond as Snape took out his frustration. "Too proud to accept help, too blind to see he needs it. Foolish child! He _will_ be on the receiving end of a curse the next time I see him!" 

There was a nip on his ear that sent the pestle flying from his hands. "Lorenz!" 

_A letter. From your grandmother. She gave me a whole fi--_

"Yes, yes. Let me see that." Less careful than he meant to be , he detached the scroll from Lorenz's leg, and ripped it open. Strange. He hadn't thought it would mean so much to him. 

_Severus, I would prefer that you not go back to using dark magic for any reason, but if this is truly the only way, then I won't refuse you. You may come over at any time; I will welcome you with open arms. You also have a very lovely owl. Love, Sonia_

"Someone seems to like you," Snape grumbled. "She obviously can't hear you nattering away." 

*******

Two days. Not the vacation he had hoped for, but he hadn't seen his grandmother in a very long time either. Though he would be doing work, very intensive and draining work, there was at last someone to really take care of him. 

"I'm here," he called out, his voice echoing in the large foyer. Lorenz, on his arm, added his own greeting. 

With a crack, there was a house elf at his feet, clad in a royal blue pillowcase. "Master Snape!" it squealed with typical enthusiasm. "You is back! It's been so long since you is here!" The elf hugged his legs and was openly crying. 

"Yes, thank you, Cherry." He cleared his throat, trying to remove the elf from his legs. "Is my grandmother here?" 

"Of course she is!" Cherry didn't let go. "She is waiting for you all day to show up. I has been busy making all your things ready. Does you want tea or something to eat? Cherry remembers all Master Snape's favorites." 

"No. I just want to speak with Sonia now." The elf released him, and he barely stopped himself from kicking it away. Obviously Sonia was being too friendly with the elves if they acted in such a manner. 

Cherry seemed undaunted and still enthusiastic. She shook her head, tips of her ears quivering, and stared at him with liquid green eyes. "She id in the library, sir!" 

He hated adoration. 

Success. He had managed to hold his emotions at bay for the most part. It wouldn't do to mistreat his grandmother so he did allow his demeanor to soften; she wouldn't have him being so openly unpleasant in her presence anyway. 

"I don't know what to say." Sonia pursed her lips, watching Severus critically. "I guess... they didn't steal your things, did they?" 

He couldn't help his low laughter. "No, they did not. I don't believe they want to be so obviously criminal. Not even Death Eaters would sink that low." One bonus he hadn't considered before was that he could freely converse with her about his past ties. She did not approve, but she knew and accepted it fully as part of his past. 

**TBC**


	8. Part 8

[Characters are the creation of JK Rowling. I am not claiming them as my own, nor attempting to make money from them, and neither should you.]

The Longest Year

part 8

a story by Scorpio Grudge 

* * *

Lips remained pursed. "I'm glad to hear that. I know how much some of those things meant to you." Her face relaxed and she smiled as he flushed. "All your books, your scales, your cauldron... It's good to see you again. I wasn't sure I'd get the chance." She was controlling herself just as well as he. 

"Of course you would." At the moment, he was wondering how he could be so confident. Imprisoned in Azkaban, he had wanted more than anything to die. 

Sonia just smiled, a condescending one that said she knew he wasn't telling the truth. 

She was the only person he would tolerate that smile from. Not even Dumbledore was allowed to look at him like that, though it happened--had happened--with unpleasant frequency. 

"But I know you're not here to tell me any stories of what you've been up to." Leaning forward in her chair, Sonia reached out to take his hand in her own. "Why can't I visit you?" 

Down to business then; he could easily deal with this. "Security. And your safety. I don't trust anyone, and anything put in writing with the Ministry has the potential to be stolen." He looked away, at Lorenz preening his feathers on the globe in the corner. "I don't trust anybody now." A year and a half of reliving betrayals... The only proper nightmare really since he was such a-- 

Arms engulfed him. To his horror, Snape realized he had tears slowly running down his cheeks. "You can trust me," Sonia whispered in his ear, rocking him gently. "You know you can, and you will always be able to." 

Lorenz remained silent. 

"You're the only one," he whispered back, his arms circling her and clutching her robes. 

"I know you never approved, but it _has_ done good. And these new ones will do good as well." Merlin but that sounded corny. 

Sonia sighed. "I know. Dark magic doesn't kill people; people kill people." She ignored his look of confusion. "How many do you need." 

"Ideally, seven. But realistically, I'll be pleased with two." Enlisting the aid of his grandmother, even for the more routine charms, felt like too much. The dark magic that went into the weaving of the cloak she wouldn't assist with. It was impossible to blame her for it; she had suffered husband, son, and nearly grandson dying from it. "You may not believe me, but I _can_ handle the Dark Arts now." 

The woman snorted. "I'm sure you can, and that's what worries me." 

"I told you I was sorry. What more can I do?" 

"I know you've done as much as you can, and you won't stop. So I ask you when you'll be done doing more than should be asked." 

"When Voldemort is gone for good. When I can get this thing off my arm. It isn't permanent; I won't allow it to be." 

"When will you start?" Sonia asked, completely off the topic. 

Holding a hide-bound book in his left hand, he answered, "Now." It was still a sunny afternoon, but it had been so long since he had performed the task, he wanted to read up on it. A hearty dinner would help as well since it was sure to be arduous work. 

"I'd really prefer," Sonia said quietly, "that you left that book here when you go." 

"It stays with me, so I know where it is always. If this ever got into the possession of the Death Eaters or Voldemort, I could never forgive myself." 

Sighing and shaking her head, Sonia stood. "I'll be awake." 

Thoughts were tumbling about in his mind as he watched her go. He knew she wasn't happy, but _she_ knew this was something he'd do with or without her help. "Thank you," he said quietly as she stepped out of the room. 

There was studying to do now. 

*******

_Will not be able to finish more than two at this time._

Millner frowned a little, then balled his fist, reducing the message to ashes. Two was better than none. Just having someone who knew how to make one was an incredible windfall. 

Those cloaks were near to legend, far more rare than invisibility cloaks. They were made, yes, but the process was dark magic and thought lost. No wonder Snape had never told anyone about his cloak; the amount of attention he would have received would have been... bad for his health. 

To think of asking him to share his knowledge was ludicrous. The man would never tell. Besides, Millner kept the loyalty and faith of his men by being as reasonable and realistic and honest with them as an old Ministry dog could. 

*******

The knife, nothing better than a sharp kitchen blade, felt awkward. It was similar to a wand, but different in almost every way at the same time. When he had been a boy, not so used to his wand, it hadn't been so bad. Now he just hoped it didn't cause him to botch things up too badly. 

And outside the animagus transformation, this would be the most difficult magic for him to attempt in over two years. 

Screwing up the cloak wasn't his concern; being swallowed by wild elemental magic was. Too late to be worrying about that though; if he did everything right it wouldn't be an issue. Just _don't bullocks it up_. 

The little clay urn had been set with the proper wards and charms, now able to hold what was normally insubstantial; the circle of protection had been marked in the grass in the house's shadow, where not even moonlight would reach; and here he was in his darkest clothing, hoping the paleness of his skin, bad at one point and made worse by his time in prison, would not taint the process. 

From behind one darkened window, Sonia watched. Being casual about it didn't help; she was utterly terrified. Only a blend of a strong calming potion and an equally strong brandy had settled her to the point of only her hands trembling. She was aware of the danger, just as Severus, but had never been witness to it, never had experience with it. 

There was a profound difference between what the Ministry declared to be dark magic and _real_ dark magic. The danger alone was enough to consider the ritual dark, but when the power harnessed from it was taken into account, nobody could deny how dangerous it wa sin the wrong hands. 

At one time, her grandson might have been those wrong hands, but now Sonia had every confidence in him, that what he was doing would be put to the use of good. Besides, if he had the strength to face Voldemort and not give up the secret, then to replicate it must have been for something he considered worthy indeed. 

Just to hope now that the Ministry didn't start abusing them, to take advantage of unlucky wizards and witches. Her time in the American wizarding world, and Muggle world, had permanently skewed her view of the Ministry; how could it be so impossibly backwards? It was nearly a wizarding dictatorship, the way the minister was allowed to get away with things. 

It was hard to believe she could ever hate anyone besides Voldemort, but the Minister of Magic, past and present, came very close. To simply put a man in prison and deny him the rights of due process... 

She turned away from the window. Down in the basement, where there were no windows, is where she'd be forced to release her unresolved anger. After so long, still fresh, she didn't believe it would ever leave her. 

The first swing of the knife, a wide back-handed arc, felt like he had just struck a tree with a spoon. Though not successful, it meant he was at least on the right path. 

Snape took a deep breath, concentrated, and swung again. This time it was like cutting through soft butter, and as though he had torn the fabric of reality, light from his slash bathed him. 

Behind the darkness was light... 

The irony had escaped him as a student, innocent in the world of grey motivations, but not now. 

Another slash, then two more in quick succession, and he had a square outlined in shimmering whiteness. He tucked the knife away and got out his wand. In the opposite hand he held the urn. Touching the tip of his wand to the corner of shadow and pulling actually peeled the darkness away. 

Beneath was a patch of wounded night, black but for the pinpricks of light breaking through, visible only from where he was standing. Someone standing across from him would see nothing. It was just as awe-inspiring as the first time, when he had been a far less jaded boy. 

With the square of darkness clinging to his wand, he began to gingerly tuck it into the urn until just the corner jutted out. A whispered spell and the urn was sealed with the night preserved safely inside. A success. 

Sonia listened to the opening of the door, relief slowly blossoming in her chest, and when several lights came on, she sagged in her chair. Safe then, and successful, which would please Severus, but she didn't care much about. "Severus, do you want something to eat? No doubt it had been a draining experience for him, but he had never liked being babied. "Slytherin independence" he had called it during the holidays between fourth and fifth years. 

"Slytherin nonsense" was her own opinion. If he needed help, he needed help, no babying about it. 

"No," he answered, and his voice oozed with weariness. "I'm going to take a nap." 

His footsteps, normally so light as to be near-silent, trudged from the next room and up the stairs. 

Though there was rationally no reason to be worried, Sonia was anyway. 

Three hours later she woke him, and then made him eat and drink his fill until she could no longer stand his complaining. "I'll help you then," she said. 

"No! I need to do this alone, to be able to concentrate." 

The dark bags under his eyes made her uneasy, but when he made a declaration like that, there was no changing his mind. "All right then. I'll be here if you need anything," Sonia said gently. Just a slight twist of the emotional dagger there. Sometimes the only way to get through to him was with manipulation. 

She watched as long as her fatigue would allow, but eventually she had to go to bed. She had no idea what he was up to, and that made her sleep restless. There were nightmares, but the subjects she could not recall. 

When dawn came, Sonia banished the dread, wiped the cold sweat from her face, and went to Severus' room. Listening first and hearing nothing, she opened the door. The first thing for her to see was a black cloak draped over a chair. From that distance, she could feel the power it radiated, and she immediately disliked it. 

On the bed she saw him, sprawled spread eagle, and feared the worst for one terrifying moment. Staring with wide eyes, hand poised over her mouth, she did see the bare rise and fall of his chest, and once again felt relief flood her. This was starting to get to be too much for a witch of her age. 

However, he would not stop with this one; he would use his second night to repeat the task. Sonia couldn't talk him out of it, so she did the only thing she could in the situation: fed him. 

First a heady broth laced with restoratives. So exhausted, he didn't even open his eyes as she spooned the mixture into his mouth. Then Sonia allowed him to sleep for a bit longer--the night must have been late--and then a full and healthy lunch. She added a healthy dose of powdered phoenix feather to it. It wasn't much on taste, but had both physical and magical restorative powers. 

When finished, Severus looked whole once more, if not at all happy. 

"What's wrong?" Sonia asked as she magicked the dishes away. "Still hungry?" 

He just frowned. "The carrots were undercooked." 

That drew a laugh from Sonia. Unhappy he might be, but he was fine otherwise. "I suppose I have to make it up to you tonight with a nice thick steak. How does that sound?" 

Before he spoke, she could read it on his face, the almost immediate softening of the frown and other assorted stress lines. "Is six too late for you?" she asked. 

"No, it's perfect." 

Sonia stood, smiling gently since she was aware how much happy smiles intimidated him, and kissed his temple. Ah yes, the blush. "Don't tire yourself out tonight." 

"I won't." 

Intimidated by happy smiles... She didn't know how it had happened, but just one summer he had returned more sour than she had ever seen him. Hated them, absolutely hated those smiled. A rare confession from him. Too close to predatory, too easy to fake, too much camouflage, no real emotion... 

It had been then that she began to suspect how deeply unhappy he was at Hogwarts, how angry he was with the rest of the world. There had been nothing for her to do though, and then the Death Eaters... Her love and support hadn't been enough to sooth the wounds caused at school, so he had turned to Voldemort. 

**TBC**


	9. Part 9

Notes/review reponses: As for Snape telling Harry he's a spy... in the long run, what difference does it make? As a spy, Snape's goal is to not get caught. Harry's ultimate goal is also to not get caught. Harry is still the hope of the wizarding world; whatever information he holds is safe until the end anyway.

And canon characters appearing here, not many. In Hermione's story, they make more appearances, but still not many.

----------------------------- 

[Characters are the creation of JK Rowling. I am not claiming them as my own, nor attempting to make money from them, and neither should you.]

The Longest Year

part 9

a story by Scorpio Grudge 

* * *

No. He had been guided expertly to Voldemort, to have his skill and knowledge and tumultuous emotions exploited by that group of monsters. 

She should have pulled him out of school when she had wanted to. Send him to a normal school, not some festering boarding school filled with miscreants and sociopaths, run by a headmaster who didn't care if his students killed one another. 

Maybe it was time to write another letter to Remus Lupin, probably the only person that could understand without judgment. 

She had never told Severus, never had the chance to really, that she corresponded with Lupin. They had never got on, even though Lupin had tried to lay the groundwork of politeness, and she didn't think they ever would. Even though it was accepted that the horrific "joke" hadn't been any part of Lupin's doing, Severus still resented and disliked the man. 

It was plainly obvious, seeing him, that it would take more than just a visit of a few days to help him. And she knew he would not accept help from anyone other than her. 

*******

"I'll see you again. Don't stay away forever, hiding behind the excuse that it's for my own safety." 

"I'll try not to," Severus answered from within the circle of her arms. 

"That's the best I can ask for. At the very least, owl me. I don't want to be left out of touch with you for that long again." 

"Yes, ma'am." 

He started to pull away, but Sonia gripped his arm tightly and saw him wince. On his Mark then. "Severus..." 

"I'll write. I promise." He made the effort to smile. 

It was something. "See that you do, Severus." With the release of his arm, his face relaxed. "I love you, silly boy. Don't do anything stupid." 

His answer was quiet. "Not this time." And quieter still: "I love you." 

*******

Back-slapping. He hated having his back slapped, shoulder clapped, hair tousled, and the person that dared attempt to pat his arse was getting a mouth full of curse. Bloody athletes. 

"Excellent work, Snape." 

At least it was only one slap on the back, and it was Millner; he didn't make a habit of such displays. "I'm sure they'll be put to good use." 

"As am I. So what do you think? Ready for field work?" 

With his own cloak in his possession once again, Snape was only as ready as could be expected for something so dangerous. "Of course." 

The pair retreated to Millner's office, and only when the door was locked did the director say more. "Usually I pair a new guy up until he's used to it all, but I get the feeling you don't want or need a partner." 

"Correct." To be hampered by someone else when he had been playing a far more dangerous game would be an insult. "I believe it would be a detriment to all involved." 

"Right. Now, I haven't discussed this with any of the others. The others are aware of this objective, but I think this might be specially suited for you." Millner sat back in his chair, but not with his normal air of smugness. "You are our best man on your intelligence alone. Combined with your experience, that you've associated with these people before, and your cloak... Those things make me nervous as hell, I'll admit, but I can't deny their usefulness." Not even amused. This was deadly serious. 

"Where am I to go?" 

"The Malfoys." 

*******

Lorenz looked stoic as ever, but the owl rarely showed anything else. _And when you get yourself killed, what will I do?_

"Celebrate." The bird was worried about him. Amazing. "You won't get the chance anyway. I'm coming back very much alive." 

The owl's golden gaze was fixed on him as he left the house and melted into the night. _I wish you luck._

His plan was stupidly simple, but at this point, he didn't trust anything else. Of course his familiarity with Malfoy Manor made him the ideal person for the job, but that was cold comfort. 

Lucius was a fool. An arrogant one as well, and with just a bit of luck on his side, Snape made it through the haphazard layers of wards. Lucius, grand arrogant fool, had never changed any of his security measures, not even passwords. 

The snake moved slowly through the decorative and sometimes dangerous bushes and plants that dotted the grounds. Once at the house, it was simple to follow the foundation until he located a heat signature. Several, in fact, in the basement, but he was not content with that. 

He retreated some distance away from the manor and resumed his human form, taking care to remain crouched in a bush. If he remained a snake, his terrible hearing and lack of magic would prevent him from getting any information at all. For this much trouble, he was going to get _something_. 

Several potions later. his eyesight, hearing, and reflexes were vastly enhanced, and he was invisible. If not literally, he felt figuratively like a black cat in a dark room. His movements were silent as he returned to the window and crouched next to it. Straight through the feeble privacy charms on the glass, he could see and hear the small gathering of Death Eaters. It appeared informal though, as none of them were in their robes or masks. At least that meant Voldemort wouldn't be dropping in then. 

Shivering slightly, Snape pulled his cloak more tightly about his shoulders. There was very little that escaped Voldemort's attention, and though the cloak was powerful in its ability to hide, it still had a signature that one powerful enough could detect. Voldemort was definitely that. 

But the Dark Lord was not there. Just Lucius, the elder Goyle (Crabbe had been a casualty), a pair of men he did not recognize (being in Azkaban had not helped his information network at all), Milton Allanson (the father of one of his young, very bright Slytherin girls--she would be a prefect now, in her fifth year), and standing in the corner was Draco. 

Something akin to regret squeezed his chest at the sight of the young man. Not just for Draco, but for Lilith--Merlin, she liked to be called Lily--Allanson, the orphaned Vincent Crabbe, and all the other children that didn't have a choice. They weren't given one, and in many cases didn't even know choices existed outside what their parents were doing. 

For Snape, it was an unenviable position, but it was better than what he had done before as a spy. Here he wasn't forced to play the Death Eater, participate, stand aside while he watched torture and rape and murder. And he would never be asked to participate, never have some quivering mass of Muggle flesh shoved into his hands and told to "have some fun with it while it's still warm." 

_Thank you, Lucius, for memories that I will never treasure._

And then the gathering got more interesting as the main attraction arrived. The door opened to reveal Reginald Duprees with a bound prisoner. 

Interesting twist to have Narcissa's brother there. Did the rest of the Duprees family know what the siblings had gotten themselves mixed up in? That was a question that would never be asked though, as Snape watched the helpless Muggle be shoved to the floor at the feet of the gathering. One of the unnameds kicked it--No! Dammit, this was not an it. This was a woman who probably had a family, children, a grandmother... 

Clenching his teeth, Snape drew his wand. Magic of the power he was about to use disrupted the effects of invisibility about half the time; he had to be ready. Other than the mental preparation, it was very easy to point his wand at the window and destroy it and much of the surrounding masonry. 

And he was slithering away from the destruction into a bed of flowers as anger and fear filled the air. Though he could not hear them now, he knew they had felt the use of magic and would investigate, look for the perpetrator. The heat signatures of the wizards retreated quickly, and he had to simply wait impatiently. Adrenalin pushed him to act, but experience told him to wait until he knew where everyone was. 

For all the victims he had been unable to save before, every person still weighing on his conscience, he would start making it up with this one. 

The air was damp, and a cold dew was starting to form on the foliage around him. Delicate black scales were no protection at all against the wetness, and an unpleasant sluggishness was starting to set in. If Lucius and the others didn't appear soon, he would have to change back to warm up. Soon enough, what felt like a herd of elephants came straight at him though, and he tensed. Being stepped on wouldn't be an experience he would enjoy. 

"Idiots! Don't trample the flowers!" Lucius barked, loud enough for even Snape to understand. Thank Merlin for Narcissa's flowers. 

The thundering subsided, and he was safe as the men avoided his hiding spot. They had lights, but none were directed at the ground; keeping still, he was unseen. Now if they'd just run off recklessly into the darkness... 

Footsteps and heat signatures moved away from him, away from the house and into the yard. Snape gave them a good minute before changing back into a person, but he waited on the ground until he couldn't even hear faint voices. He crawled to the opening, pointed his wand at the unmoving figure, and whispered, "_Mobilicorpus_." 

This would be the difficult part: getting them both far enough away so he could apparate. A moment of critical thought and he shed his cloak. Snape tossed it over the woman floating in the air and fastened it, then downed his other potion of invisibility. 

Lucius couldn't detect the cloak, had never been able to; they would remain undetected as long as they didn't pass too closely to the searching wizards. With the layout of the grounds firmly in his mind, he started walking to the nearest exit. 

"There was no information to gather. It was just an informal meeting, to have some sport." Snape watched with a detached gaze as a pair of medi-wizards attended to the Muggle. Another official stood by to perform the necessary memory charm. 

Millner nodded. "How do you think they'll react to this?" he asked, not giving away anything in regard to his own feelings. 

"Anger." Snape shrugged. "This may have been surprisingly bold, but for them to think it would never happen is also incredibly foolish. I don't believe they'll do anything specific in retaliation." 

Another nod. "Even though you didn't get any information, I still want it in a pensieve so we can identify the men you didn't recognize. And good work. I knew you were the one for the job." 

Praise. Curious. He hadn't even done anything, certainly hadn't helped the effort against Voldemort. 

Snape looked at Millner, re-appraising the wizard. He could probably respect this man. Certainly it would help the situation, if he had to be working for him for an unknown amount of time. 

This experience was certainly going to be... different. 

**[5 YEARS LATER]**

"Got a problem, Snape. Need you to do something special this time." 

"Kill Voldemort with my bare hands?" Snape did not look up from his current task. 

"Baby sitting duty." 

His head came up. "Excuse me." 

Millner smiled, something that never bode well. "Protective custody. You're the lucky contestant this week." He dropped a folder in front of Snape. "You're to pick up your new roommate today. All the details are in there." 

He was gone before Snape had the chance to properly react. The only focus for his outrage was the plain folder in front of him, and that did not make a satisfying target at all. This was, without a doubt, the most personally infuriating thing the Ministry had forced upon him, but certainly not the worst. But personal inconvenience was something he simply couldn't deal with, and this... There was nothing he could do about it. He would just have to take this person into his home, and he didn't even know who it was. 

If they hadn't been actively trying before, it was definite now: the Ministry was trying to ruin his life. 

With a great sigh, one of the only expressions he let loose in the small room, he stood. Might as well see who it was now instead of delaying it. 

As long as this person just stayed out of his way... 

**END**


End file.
